


Yes, Sir

by Thaliel (Alodia)



Series: Good Girl [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Dominance, F/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, S&M, Spanking, dominant cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alodia/pseuds/Thaliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena was well aware of what was coming next, his methodical undressing was always the first step, and she was growing damp just with the waiting. It had happened a couple of times before, when things became too stressful and Cullen took charge of her anxiety. It was as if when things got crazy, Elena didn’t know how to relax or release her emotions. Everything built up inside of her, making Elena snipe at everyone and her fighting sloppy.<br/>So he made her release them, by spanking her.<br/>They hadn’t set out to do so in the beginning, but she had become so tightly wound one week Cullen became desperate. On his quest to ease her pain he had struck her behind out of frustration, and something happened neither of them had expected: It helped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Sir

Sparring with Cullen was becoming a weekly thing, every Tuesday morning they would meet in the courtyard dressed for battle. Cullen was always antsy and on his toes, adrenaline pumping from a short jog on the battlements, helmet in place and armor strapped on. He was always a sight to see, lion helmet firmly in place, metal hitting metal as he took a short jog to the courtyard where he then stretched. More than one woman would watch his progress around the castle every week, sighing and batting their eyes at the Commander.

Elena met him with the same dazed look most woman in Skyhold wore, but matched his adrenaline and enthusiasm for their fight. She relished the pleasant ache always present after a fight and the chance to get her blood pumping outside of the field. It was just an added bonus that she got to watch Cullen move with the full extent of his grace and prowess, and _spend time_ with him afterwards.

Elena led the way to the sparring ring, which was empty this early in the morning, save for a few casual observers. It was always better when there were less people, fewer distractions. She could anticipate every move he made, blocking with barriers and deflecting with spells, carefully watching every twitch and bunch of his muscle.

Cullen’s eyes crinkled with a smile as they squared up, reminding them both that this wasn’t the main event, at least for them. Getting all that adrenaline pumping always had _other_ side effects, ones which usually meant they would be in her quarters until noon. At the earliest.

Elena winked at him quickly before making the first move, swirling around with her practice staff swinging out with the dulled-blade end aimed at Cullen’s abdomen. He stepped back easily and then stepped forward again into the open space she had created at the end of her turn. His shield pushed into her chest, pressing against leather mage robes. It was hard enough to move her but didn’t knock the breath from her lungs.

She rolled backwards, using the momentum of his strike and laughing as she went. Cullen smiled and followed, blunted sword stabbing into the ground next to her. It was a game they played, never hurting one another or pushing too far. This was for fun, exercise, and more _base_ enjoyments.

Her heart pounded, blood rushing to the surface, making her skin feel more alive than just a moment ago, every small brush and movement setting nerves aflame. Elena’s mind was fixed on what would follow the fight, memories of past endeavors driving her to distraction. Tuesday were the best.

Elena vaulted up, arching her back in an impressive display of flexibility before reversing the action, her hands pushing off the ground as she righted herself. Cullen stumbled back as she landed in his personal space, eyes dazed as he looked out at her. Elena stuck her tongue out and darted into his stance, creating a pulse of energy which she aimed at Cullen’s mid-section.

The only sign he was disturbed by it was a low _ooph_ before he grunted and pressed out, sword seeking flesh. Elena moved to step, but got tangled in her own legs. One foot didn’t quite cross the other and she literally tripped on her own feet.

She fell to the ground in a heap, sounds of surprise cut off when she fell back on the ground, winded.

Cullen huffed above her, looking down through his snarling helmet, “You need to watch your footwork.” The end of his sword tapped her lightly om the neck with the reprimand.

“My footwork is fine,” she argued.

Cullen’s eyes were dark when he asked, “Getting bratty are we?”

Challenge raced through her and she vaulted up, this time whirling around, making sure she didn’t trip as she lunged. Determination pounded in her veins along with magic and fire. She would win, could win this. Another weak pulse of magic hit him, but Cullen circled, moving in the opposite direction of her spin, one foot crossing over the other.

Reeling her arms, Elena changed directions and moved to hit him again, but missed when Cullen stepped towards her and into another opening.

“Wrong,” Cullen said.

Elena huffed with agitation. It wasn’t often she was _this_ off of her game, but nonetheless she tried to cover for her mistakes for no reason other than provocation. “Why does it matter? I thought this was for fun?”

His eyes glinted steel for a moment before becoming heated. Elena felt a rush of arousal through her, shooting tingles down each arm and to all her extremities. She knew that look, and exactly what it meant.

“ _Clearly,_ ” He drawled, “We will get nothing done like this.”

He took her elbow and escorted her off the field and into the keep effectively ending their fight. His silence was stormy as they made their way in. It was not the kind of storm that would fell trees and start fires, but the kind which was a beautiful light show, washing away her worries and leaving her filled with wonder. A new beginning, a rebirth.

Elena knew she had been bratty, but just his hand on her arm and the knowledge of what was to come kept her from regretting it. She had acted out because she _needed_ it. The last week had been stressful and distracting, the real source of her poor footwork and snippy attitude. It wasn’t fair of her to take it out on Cullen, but he knew what was wrong and wouldn’t hold it against her. He was there to help.

He led them through the dining room and past her gleaming throne, through the door and up the stairs. Once the door to her bedroom closed Cullen got behind her and pushed her up the stairs, brokering no resistance. Nerves sliced through her as they hit each step, tinting her excitement and sending her heart racing faster.

Faced with the consequences of her actions and rattled with sudden uncertainty, Elena turned her head and looked down at him, “Cullen…”

He looked up at her, helmet still on, and growled, “Don’t.”

“But—“

“Elena,” he said harshly, “No talking.”

She shut her trap and looked up at the much larger man, waiting for his cue. Cullen started with the helmet, removing it and setting it on the newel post, revealing his scar being pulled down by a frown. Then he pulled her further into the room and set her on the edge of the bed. Elena sat there uneasily, body throbbing with anticipation, fear, and the remnants of adrenaline from their fight.

Cullen stood in front of her, legs shoulder-width apart and arms crossed, looking down, “Now. What’s the matter Elena?”

“I-I-I… Er…” she stammered, “Well…”

Cullen waited, eyebrow raised.

“Uh. This week was just…” Images of her week flashed behind her eyes, endless meetings with nobles who eyes her ears and vallaslin with disdain. Three more marriage proposals from men she had never met, several proposed alliances with various Orlesian families, and one each from Antiva, Rivain, and Ferelden. When she wasn’t out in the field fighting of demons, she was in Skyhold desperately trying to find time to herself while fielding these demands. Her time sparring with Cullen was one of the few times a week she had to do something she enjoyed. The rest of the time, work took over her life. She sighed deeply, “Not fun.”

Cullen’s eyes softened, “Too many nobles?”

Elena nodded miserably, “They’re just so mean.”

“I understand,” Cullen said gently, “But that is no excuse for being a brat.”

“I… Didn’t mean to?” That was a lie. As much as she dreaded what was next, she knew she would enjoy it, and had provoked him on purpose. Past the initial fear, anticipation, and excitement, Elena knew she needed this.

Cullen shook his head, “It’s too late for apologies.”

The air shifted just slightly with his declaration. Her normally flushed cheeks deepened in color and everything seemed heavier. A gentle breeze was enough to tighten her nipples, the brush of his hand would make her want to cast fire. Heartbeat thundering in her chest as Cullen shifted, hand reaching for buckles on his armor, Elena watched with avid attention. He removed first his shoulder pieces and vambraces, then shed his overcoat and chest piece. Each layer removed revealed more and more, taut muscles under rolled up sleeves and an unrestrained view of powerful thighs encased in soft leather breeches. Tantalizing snapshots of all that made up the Commander.

Elena was well aware of what was coming next, his methodical undressing was _always_ the first step, and she was growing damp just with the waiting. It had happened a couple of times before, when things became too stressful and Cullen took charge of her anxiety. It was as if when things got crazy, Elena didn’t know how to relax or release her emotions. Everything built up inside of her, making Elena snipe at everyone and her fighting sloppy. So he made her release them, by spanking her.

They hadn’t set out to do so in the beginning, but she had become so tightly wound one week Cullen became desperate. On his quest to ease her pain he had struck her behind out of frustration, and something happened neither of them had expected: It helped.

Since then it had been a semi-regular occurrence, with each of them settling into a routine and falling further into their roles. Now when he spanked her, she throbbed with anticipation and fear, looking forward to it as much as she dreaded it. And as his hand came down on her tender flesh over and over, he insisted she call him Sir.

Not Commander, not Cullen. Sir. Just thinking the word had her thighs quivering and the ghost of remembered pain spreading over her backside.

Cullen, now comfortable in his undershirt and breeches turned to Elena then, eyes expectant. It was inevitable, it would help, but she resisted anyway, “Do we have to?”

Cullen looked at her, waiting.

“Fine,” she whined.

She stood and pulled at the buttons on the front of her jacket, moving slow out of spite.

“Elena,” Cullen warned low.

A petulant sigh escaped her as she moved quicker, taking off her over coat, and then her under shirt and finally standing to take off her breeches. There was no point to her resistance, but she was driven to try anyway. They had an understanding that she would strip only to her smalls, and that she would do as he asked along the way. When the last piece had fallen away, she revealed had donned a red breast band and matching panties that morning, the pair of them sitting in stark contrast against her skin.

Cullen’s eyes swept over her from head to toe, appreciating slight curves and pale skin. There was a flashing deep in his eyes, hunger growing the more skin he took in.

He moved to perch on the bed and maneuvered her so Elena was standing between his knees. She trembled as his still gloved hands slid over her hips and then up her waist to stop at the sides of her ribs. His eyes roved over her face, making sure she was doing all right.

“Elena,” he said, “You know how this goes.”

She nodded.

“You still want to do this?” He asked, voice going soft.

“Yes, Sir” Elena said, hoarse.

“Then come here,” he instructed her, gently pulling her until she was sprawled across his lap, stomach pressing into one of his knees as her breasts rested just below the other one so she was supported by chest and hips. Elena settled into the space, getting as comfortable as she could by draping her arms over his thigh before Cullen began to run his hands over her.

“Do you have anything else you want to say before we start?” He kept his words low and non-threatening. He knew what spankings did to her emotions, making everything raw and too sharp. It was always better to get things off her chest now, so she could get it out of her system before it came hurtling out.

Elena shook her head this time. Nothing in particular was bothering her, but when you were the Inquisitor it didn’t have to be one particular thing. Everything she did had consequences, upset someone or created a conflict. It could be small, deciding where to send troops or not to, and some noble was angry, some village destroyed because she didn’t have the means to protect it. So many small things all adding up to something huge.

She could feel a rumble move through him and his hands moved across her, down her bare back and then over her behind, his gloves soft with use. Elena found herself wanting his bare hands on her, but she knew it would happen with time.  Cullen always did things at his own pace, and only when he was ready for it. Especially when they were like this.

Supple leather caressed every bit of skin they could reach, bringing blood to the surface and making nerves tingle with awareness. Then his hands came down hard and sharp on her bottom.

“Ow!” Elena cringed out of reflex, her legs moving to buck and kick away from Cullen.

“Elena,” he growled, “Don’t fidget.”

She stilled with the reprimand and then waited. His gloved hand met her skin again, soothing the sting away. But the relief was short lived before there was another loud _smack_ and Cullen’s hand came down again. Her thin panties and his gloves helped to alleviate some of the sting, but they wouldn’t remain.

 _Smack._ Another hit on her other cheek followed the first, with a short stroke following. Then there was another series of hits, alternating sides with just enough force to sting and make her skin pink.

“Cullen,” she whined, kicking again.

He hit her again and clamped his other arm around her legs, forcing her body still. “What did you call me?”

Elena kicked harder, mostly out of spite. Cullen leaned up and pulled off his gloves with his teeth, and then yanked down her panties before clamping down on her legs again. A groan of frustration echoed through the chambers from Elena as she tried unsuccessfully to move.

“Stop,” Cullen mumbled, his free hand again moving to stoke her backside and then smacking it again, harder this time. “What do you call me?”

Elena whined but did mutter a low, “Sir.”

He smacked her again. It was harder than the previous ones, and a more significant rush of blood came to her skin and sent her heart pounding harder than even it had during their sparring. Her emotions roiled inside her and threatened to break out, but she couldn’t find her release. They stayed trapped just beneath the surface and pushed against her skin. It was irritating to the extreme. She _wanted_ to let them out, needed them to be released and to just _cry._ Wail to the world and bemoan her fate, that everything she did effected the entire country. It just wasn’t fair! She was a Lavellan, used to roaming the forests and plain of Thedas, answering to no one and accountable only to herself. Now she was accountable to a nation of people who didn’t consider her one of their own.

Her eyes flooded with tears but refused to spill over. She was too used to keeping it in, bottling everything up and telling no one. Nothing would flow over unless something pushed her there.

As if he could sense her difficulties, Cullen stuck her again, hand landing squarely in the middle of her cheek. “That is what I thought,” he muttered. Her invocations always made his blood boil with need.

“Owwww, Sir!” Elena whined. Her voice failed to portray that she was grateful for the pain, physically weakening her emotional barriers.

Cullen seemed to latch onto what she wasn’t saying and kept up his pattern. Three or four strikes, then a break, his hand moving over her sore skin and easing the ache until it was almost gone before moving again. Elena struggled still, but he was building up the sensations until something within her opened.

Tears filled her eyes and then, blissfully, broke over. Cullen broke his pattern only for a moment to murmur her name low and soothing before he continued as before. It was softer now, just enough to make sure her guard stayed down. Tears kept streaming down her face, broken sobs coming through the barrier.

The relief was so strong she could hardly believe how much she needed this. Everything felt lighter, her shoulders no longer so tense even though they shook. Her heart was unbound though it labored. The Inquisitor was almost always in need of a good cry, but this was better, _more_ in a way she couldn’t describe.

Then Cullen’s hands were no longer coming down to strike at all, just gently moving over her, up and down her back, over her bottom, and then repeating the steps in a sequence. She sobbed still but mumbled a broken, “S-s-sir.”

“Hmm?” Cullen murmured, hands still moving.

“Gloves,” she stated, unable to say more.

He understood wat she was asking and pulled his gloves off with his teeth before maneuvering them so they were both lying on the bed, the small elf cradled in his arms.

Her sobs started to trail off, leaving her with a warm bottom and even warmer arms around her. The air inside the canopied bed seemed fresher, the world crisper and more in focus, and her heart lighter.

“All better now?” Cullen asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on tumblr at [here](http://www.alodia-thaliel.tumblr.com)!


End file.
